40.

There was once a man
I knew upon local land
He stood some six foot three from the lawn.
He looked just seventeen
And was still thirty-three.
Yet went off to war, come the dawn.

The fear on his face
Was all over the place
As his was the image of the drive.
He looked into my eyes
And it came as some surprise;
He said: "Don't fear for me, son; I'm still alive".

(Chorus)
And the wild winds swole
To the sound of a million tanks.
Yet the scent of hyprocricy
Grew till it stank;
That the cynical eyes that were in charge
Fled from the lies and
To a few score hundred
Barrels of desert fruit....

Love's labour lost...

The man that I knew was Albert Brookes;
He had size nine shoes and a wife called Flo,
With 3 children all of differing age.
In his mind were casual doubts
About if it was healthy to drink or snout.
But he continued on the page.

He gave in to the callings of the government
Enlisted soon enough when they gave the push.
He loved his roast beef dinners and cups of tea....
Albert was an English man.
With snow white tan,
And that's good enough for me.

And the wild winds swole
To the sound of a million tanks.
Yet the scent of hyprocricy
Grew till it stank;
That the cynical eyes that were in charge
Fled from the lies and
To a few score hundred
Barrels of desert fruit....

Love's labour lost...

They met in soul at Operation Avalanche,
And served their own corps with little panache
Each holding their own until the time 6th collapsed.
Minds went blank and insane
Trying in vein to replay
The things that had occured after despatch.

The tears made in war
Are but a crashing bore,
When you hear the words of those combined in memories...
It all whispered down to me:
"Everyone's a whore
For the convenient price of a cause".